


catullus sixteen

by waspfactor



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waspfactor/pseuds/waspfactor
Summary: maehara, with a focus on the friendships he made along the way to his third year of junior high.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	catullus sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> HI, wasp here, retconning maehara :')))) this is like, my definitive maehara backstory. it's completely different to the one's i used to write. i think i prefer this one better (i also wanted to focus on the application process to kunugigoaka cos why not)
> 
> i luv maehara sm that is a special boy... my love... hazama n maehara friendship wasn't even supposed to happen in this fic but also i wrote it in and was like yooooooooooooooooooo this could work!!
> 
> also maehara character study that doesn't focus on romantic relationships U LOVE TO SEE IT i know the tags r bit fucked so thanks dear reader for giving me a chance!
> 
> wasp’s toxic trait- describing characters from the show but never mentioning them by name or have them properly speak which means they don’t deserve to be tagged LMAOOO
> 
> [this fic was inspired by this gorgeous song from ferry. check it out!!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80sl53M0L6s&vl=en)

The day he leaves the courthouse, his father’s gripping his hand as if he’s scared of letting go, is a good one. He knows why; he will never see his mother again, he’s old enough to understand that. But he’s too young still to know the true horror of what his mother has done. There’s a thick haze over his memories, one that will persist until he’s older, when he lays awake one night in bed and has an epiphany.

The judge had called his mother some nasty words, ones that he could still here even in the sound-protected room. The social security worker accompanying him told him to ignore the insults and focus on the colouring in puzzle at hand. Maehara hates art so he colours outside the lines and the worker furrows her brow at it.

That night, Maehara gets a good night sleep. One free of nightmares.

He and his father move districts, a new beginning, a fresh start. He enrols in a new elementary school, in the middle of the academic year. Maehara knows that means he’s put in an awkward situation as he’s sat down at a table near the front. At break, a girl with pretty black hair tells him that she misses the boy who used to sit there, her old classmate.

“Who was he?” He asks, politely, repeatedly smoothing out his trousers by rubbing his hands down his thighs. He’d told his father he’d be fine to start school again but he’s still a bit nervous.

The girl replies with a vivid description. Red hair (like a tomato, she exclaims happily), a funny sense of humour and wasn’t easily scared. She sighs. “He used to help me with mathematics.”

“I like mathematics.” He says, partially out of instinct. It’s a half-truth- technically, he doesn’t like it. But he gets it more than his other subjects (like Japanese).

This seems to please the girl who lights up like a star. She claps her hands together and introduces herself as Hazama.

“Maehara.”

Hazama, Maehara learns, isn’t very popular, it seems. She sits alone at lunch time, hidden away in the library. She’s no one first choice in class projects. It doesn’t seem to bother her though, as she reads books that seem way above her ability and steams through the worksheets she’s given.

One lunch time, as they sit in the library, secretly listening to headphones by threading the wire through their jumpers, Maehara comments on it. “You’re very smart.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I just want to be a librarian when I’m older, so I just read a lot. I think we’re all smart in our own ways,” She slides him over a worksheet on long division. “…Help me out here?”

“You forgot to carry the 3 here,” He circles the forgotten 3. “Then, follow through as usual.”

Hazama lives not top far from Maehara, just on the opposite of the park in the centre of town. One day after school, they go to a convenience store together (with Hazama scaring the cashier half to death by jumping up in front of the counter) where she buys a plastic tub. They normally walk halfway through the park before waving goodbye to each other but today, she stands in the middle and stabs her newly bought plastic tub.

“What are you doing?” He asks as she lifts up rocks.

She looks up at him, a look in her eye as she shows him her hand. There’s a millipede trapped between her fingers. “Getting new pets,” She says simply, placing the insect in the box. “I’m not allowed to keep real pets, so I collect these guys. Plus, they’re free.”

Maehara laughs. “You’re so weird.” But there’s no venom behind it. Hazama _is_ weird but they both know it.

Hazama rolls and dangles a woodlouse in front of Maehara’s face. He’s not scared of bugs, but he has _no_ reason to ever be that close to a woodlouse.

Hazama calls him ‘woodlouse’ for the rest of the school year.

Ah.

Speaking of school.

Junior high is the hot conversation topic, half their class figuring out where they’ll be going next year for school. Maehara’s father has always a had a semi clear-cut plan; go to a good school, for _something._ He the star on the football team, an ace up their sleeve, the last-minute goal getter. His academics might not be the best overall but he’s the best at mathematics and second best at science. He and Hazama spend their library time pouring over potential junior highs.

Hazama, even if she denies, is more well-read and more intelligent than Maehara. Maybe it’s all in the way she presents herself, intricately done braids and an extensive vocabulary but the way she devours books meant for older age groups signifies she has more academic potential than Maehara and his silly little formulas ever will.

Kunugigoaka Junior High. Hazama spots in on a ‘top 10’ list. The school that’s produced more doctors, lawyers, politicians, artists, Noble Peace Prize winners and scientists than failures. Former students describe it as a ‘well-oiled machine that simply requires a hard work ethic and determination to succeed’. It boasts state of the art facilities, like an Olympic swimming pool, 4 football pitches, a newly built running track, a well-maintained library that contains some books that some universities could only _wish_ of having.

Downside to it all- it’s extremely competitive. And expensive. Hazama never talks about it much but her father, who passed away when she was little, left her family a pretty sum of money. She thinks she’ll be able to afford Kunugigoaka but Maehara thinks on it briefly. His father’s been going through a rough patch recently, with business slowly chugging along. But then he sees the scholarship page and figures he might as well go for one of the sports ones.

Hazama makes him pinkie promise that they’ll take the application test together. Maehara complies.

Kunugigoaka Junior High is a monolith of a school, a beacon of success. The application test is split into 2 parts: a written test and then a one-on-one interview with a senior member of staff. The test is split via gender so Maehara waves goodbye to Hazama as he stands in line with the rest of the boys, as they wait to be allowed into the exam hall.

The exam is split into 5 main subjects; the 5 subjects Kunugigoaka focuses on. Mathematics, his best subject, he flies through. Japanese, thanks to Hazama’s help, is a much smoother sailing than what it could’ve been like. Science, at least the physics portion, is easy enough and Maehara hopes that biology and chemistry haven’t dragged him down. His father’s been giving him additional English lessons at home, trying to show Maehara the importance of knowing many languages. It’s a tricky language but the writing’s easier than the translation portion so he keeps a note of the alphabet at the top of the page, so he doesn’t forget.

The social subjects are an entirely different matter. His essays are muddled and repeat themselves one too many times. The only saving grace is that he likes Geography, so he’s at least interested in the questions given to him.

All students, regardless of gender, are then ushered into another hall, where they are divided by last name. Hazama and Maehara are lucky enough to be put in the same group for the interview section of the application, with surnames H – M being interviewed in a high up office. They get interviewed one at a time, leaving the rest of the students to stand in line and _wait._

A girl with vibrant, ginger hair stands in front of him in the line, rocking back and forward on the balls of her feet. She’s humming softly, twirling her pen (adorned with butterfly stickers) in her hand. The exam clearly went better for some than others, if the ginger boy’s nervous body language from behind him says anything.

When Hazama exits the office and walks past the line, she flashes him a thumbs up. He assumes that means good news.

It’s his turn next and Maehara only then realises that he’s being interviewed _by_ the principal himself as he glances at the doorplate. He inhales sharply, in fear of the unknown.

Butterfly girl pops out of the office, a small smile to herself. Maehara doesn’t know if that’s due to a good interview or her seemingly sunny personality. He doesn’t have time to think of it further, however, as the reception motions for him to go in.

Principal Asano’s office is dimly light, except for the huge ceiling to floor windows that hug the side of the office. It backlights the principal, giving him all the power in the dynamic. On his desk is a pack of cards, a football, and a sheet of paper.

“Maehara Hiroto,” His voice is deep, like treacle. “It says on my file here that your best subject is mathematics.”

He nods. “That’s right, sir.”

There’s a smile on the other’s face but it doesn’t seem genuine. It’s… calculating. “An excellent choice. Mathematics is a marvellous discipline of science and a strong basis for many other subjects.”

Maehara agrees with him, even if the reason _he_ likes maths is because you’re either right or wrong. The principal motions to the pack of playing cards first.

“My favourite subsection of mathematics is statistics. Take this pack of cards. If I wanted to obtain one specific card from this pack, say the eight of diamonds, for instance. What are my chances?”

“1/52,” He answers. “A roughly 0.02% chance.”

The principal flips over the top card, the three of spades. “And now?”

Maehara frowns. This is… _easy._ “1/51. The odds have improved but not by much. It’s still under 0.02%”

“Very good. Even though we have eliminated one whole possibility, the chances of the desired outcome are still unfavourable,” The principal adds the three of spades to the pile and begins to shuffle, almost at superhuman speed. “Now. Something a little more challenging.”

He splits the deck evenly, counting 26 in each pile. “What are the chances that both these piles have an equal number of red and black cards?”

Maehara stares hard at the cards. He fiddles with a loose hem on his shirt as he thinks. He’s not the best at mental maths, would much prefer a pen and paper to work it through and he’s certainly not the best at mental arithmetic while the principal’s violet eyes burn into him. He eventually arrives at an answer. “Just over 31%. I think.”

That seems to please the principal, as his glare softens slightly. “Wonderful. You seem to excel at this,” He begins to show Maehara the entire deck. It consists only of black cards. Maehara frowns at that. “Of course, probability means nothing if the game is rigged from the start. Sometimes, life is completely out of our control and no matter what calculations we compute, we never take the entropy factor into consideration. Sometimes, life is simply unfair.”

He rolls the football towards Maehara. “You’ve applied for a football scholarship. My son loves football and as a result, I’ve taken up interest in the sport. Do you follow any teams?”

Maehara catches the ball and grins, spinning it around in his hands. “I follow the Japanese and European leagues. And the World Cup, obviously.”

“Would you say you know _a lot_ about the World Cup?”

Not really, Maehara wants to say but his father had stressed the importance of ‘selling yourself well’ in interviews so he does. “I would say I know more than the average boy my age.”

The smile is back, as well as the fear deep within Maehara’s stomach. “Okay. My son loves the World Cup. He’s about your age so I’ll be using him as a baseline,” He waves his hand to the vast, open space of his office. “I would like you to do some ‘keep ups’, please.”

That sounds simple enough for Maehara, even if he isn’t in proper gym clothes. He stands up and prepares to begin when the principal adds another clause. “Oh, one more thing. On every prime number keep up, I would like you to name the hosts and winners of the World Cup, starting from 2018 and working backwards until you reach 1930.”

Maehara nods on instinct as he holds the ball in the air, about to drop it. He reminds himself that this is a good combination for him. He begins.

  1. “Russia. France won.”



  1. “Brazil. Germany won.”



  1. “South Africa. Spain won.”



He continues, the principal humming each time he gets a right answer. The non-prime keep ups are the worst, as Maehara’s left concentrating more on when the next World Cup was, rather than the next upcoming prime.

It’s on kick up 17 that he messes up. “Italy. Germany won.”

“Unfortunately, that’s incorrect,” The principal’s voice cuts through the air and Maehara’s so surprised that the football falls to the ground, rolling away. “You may take a seat again.”

“…Pardon?” Maehara takes his seat again, slightly ashamed he only got up to number 17.

“ _West_ Germany won the 1990 Italian World Cup,” Maehara didn’t even know Germany had been divided into West and East. “Later that year, in October, German reunified but West Germany’s victory earlier in July still stands today.”

“Oh.” Is all Maehara says in response.

“It is no matter. Your academic record lists you struggle with History the most so it’s to be expected,” The principal hands him the last item on his desk, the sheet of paper. Maehara looks down at it and notices that every paragraph is written in a different language. “Please read aloud those paragraphs, to the best of your ability.”

Japanese is first and the easiest. Maehara vaguely recognises it as a passage from a gothic classic Hazama recommended to him. The English is also easy enough to read.

While he stumbles his way through the French, the principal visibly wincing as he mispronounces ‘oiseaux’, his speaks very basic, conversational Italian, which seems to spark the principal’s interest. There’s another language on the paper that Maehara figures is Russian or Polish due to the characters but he doesn’t know any Cyrillic language, so he skips it.

The last paragraph is written in Latin. “Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo-” He begins but the pronunciation must be so wrong because the principal cuts him off. There’s a smile on his face but Maehara doesn’t know why. He’s a difficult man to read, especially in the dark room.

“That will do,” He takes back the sheet of paper. “One more question. Would you like to attend this school?”

Maehara nods. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“Thank you for your time, Maehara. You will receive a letter delivered to your home, detailing the result of your application.”

Maehara leaves the principal’s office, squinting his eyes due to the contrast of light. He checks the time as he passes the line of students and realises his interview only took 3 minutes. He thought it had taken at least half an hour.

After the interview, the prospective student are permitted to return home. Hazama waits around for him, reading a book under a tree. She’s not alone; she sits in silence with a boy with a silly haircut, half of it windswept and the rest shaved.

Maehara walks over and Hazama looks up from her book. “How did it go?” She asks.

“Weird. He was scary,” The other boys looks up at him so Maehara offers a small wave. “He made me count playing cards, play a bit of football and read out some paragraphs.”

“He made me conjugate verbs while doing push ups and translate some old Japanese text I’ve never even heard of before,” Hazama complains, massages her arms. “Did you see what that last paragraph said?”

“No. I don’t know any Latin.”

Hazama does _her_ smile, the one she does when she wants to scare people. “Oh. It doesn’t matter then.”

She stands up, placing her book back in her bag. “See you later.” She waves to the boy she was sitting next to.

“Do you know him?” Maehara asks, as they leave the school grounds. The application took a good chunk of the day. It’s almost dinner time.

“No. But he saw me reading and sat down next to me. He was being really nice, but he was being weird about it,” She kicks a rock and watches it fly down the street. “I scared him more though, so he just decided to read as well.”

They discuss the exam, both agreeing that the Japanese and Mathematics sections seemed to best the easiest. When they go to part at their spot in the park, Hazama asks him the billion-yen question. “Do you think you got in.”

Maehara’s not one to get hung up on past mistakes. “Sure.” He says.

Their letter come punctually, one week after the application. Maehara’s granted the football scholarship and Hazama, of course, gets in, based on her results. Maehara’s dad treats them both for dinner and pays for it all, congratulating the two. The only downside is that they’re not in the same class, with Hazama being placed in B and Maehara in D.

It doesn’t bother them too much though; it just means they’ll have more chances to make friends. The summer before the start of junior high is the last time he speaks to Hazama, but he didn’t know that at the time.

Kunugigoaka is massive and is organised via a caste system. Being in D Class, it puts him quite squarely near the very bottom of the school (not as bad as E Class, however). At assemblies, he strains to look for Hazama but can’t see her anywhere. He’s not really encouraged to speak to her anyways, as the class system suggests everyone keeps to their own class. The principal, just as scary when in decent lighting, talks of a worker ant ratio. Maehara thinks this is stupid but everyone else laps it up so he complies. He’s not one to go against the flow.

He joins the football team, and it is here where he meets another ginger boy with striking violet eyes. His last name confirms his suspicions. The principal’s son. Football extraordinaire. The third-year captain lets Asano try out first, probably because he was the principal’s son.

Asano weaves in and out of other’s player’s ways, like a spider crafting its web. He also kick the ball so hard that it burns a small hole in the net. He’s a good player, that much is obvious and Maehara sourly thinks that Asano should’ve went last as to not set expectations so high.

When it’s his shot, Maehara realises that he only has one thing above Asano: his agility. They might be the same height and Maehara may be slightly bulkier, but he carries his weight better, swiftly dodging other players like he was a ballerina. Asano is slim but lanky, not knowing what to do with himself and it’s apparent in the way he runs.

Maehara makes the team but only barely. He’s stood next to Asano so that they can have their picture taken together. Asano doesn’t hide the look of disgust he gives Maehara but Maehara figures he can’t glare back, so he bites his tongue.

He studies in the library during lunchtime, utilising the extensive resources at his disposal (and also as a way of trying to see Hazama: no luck) when he’s approached by a friendly looking boy. “Are you okay?” He asks.

Maehara looks up from his environmental geography worksheet. It’s not the geography he’s used to so it’s taking it’s toll on him. “Hm?”

Nice boy smiles, golden eyes crinkling at the corner. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just, I was studying over there,” He points to one of the study tables that’s _exclusively_ reserved for A Class. “And you looked a bit stressed out. I just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

Maehara leans back in his chair and stretches, not realising how poor his posture was. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just some new geography I’ve never really studied before.”

The boy peers over his shoulder to glance at the worksheet. “Oh! Backwash shores! I just completed a chapter on this in class,” He motions for Maehara’s pen. “Do you mind if I?”

Maehara has no clue what he’s going about so he figures he might as well take the help. He gives the A Class boy his pen who walks him through shores and coastal lines. It’s not the most interesting subject but the way the boy explains it makes sense and he’s clearly interested so it sticks in Maehara’s head.

“Man, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone make water movement sound so interesting,” Maehara admits. “Thank you. Humanities are my worst subject.”

The other laughs politely. “Ah, that’s probably why then. Humanities can be a stickler. I take it you’re better at science and mathematics then?”

They catch a little longer and the amicable boy introduces himself as Isogai and when Maehara says his name, Isogai’s face falters. He asks if Maehara lived in a district of town when he was younger and Maehara frowns softly.

“Yeah, when I was 7 or so. I moved away though,” He tries not to remember a lot before he moved away, too scared the fog will lift and he’ll remember something he _really_ doesn’t want to remember. He racks his brain, trying to figure out why Isogai would be so specific about such a niche area of town and _then_ it hits him. “ _Wait._ Isogai. _Yuuma._ We used to be neighbours!”

Isogai bursts out a huge smile, dimples showing. “I thought I recognised you, but I didn’t want to be creepy.”

They fall into ample chatter and when Isogai panics and realises he needs to go to class, Maehara walks with him. They exchange numbers and Isogai promises to message him when he gets the chance.

His good mood is too positive to be watered down by the depressive atmosphere of D Class.

He and Isogai rekindle their friendship from all those years ago. Isogai’s a model student; perfect gentleman, hard worker, star tennis player. It almost confuses Maehara why Isogai chooses to hang out with him but Isogai smiles and answers that Maehara’s his best friend and his chest blooms with pride. He can’t really argue against that.

Isogai helps him study, in an attempt to pull Maehara up from D Class. Isogai predicts he could make B Class and Isogai says it so convincingly that Maehara believes him.

They study as often as they can together. Even when Isogai’s working, Maehara will sit in the café he works at and studies.

For one of the first times in his life, he _really_ tries.

Even with Isogai’s tutoring, his grades are still poor enough to keep him in D Class for second year. It’s a discouraging blow to his ego and his father’s ‘you did the best you can’ rings around in his head. This year, however, he’s sat beside a girl, with beautiful long blue hair and curious, wide eyes. His first thought is that she looks cute.

Something is off about her, though. Her hair is long, but it looks like it would suit her if it were shorter. A rather cruel looking classmate says something that Maehara doesn’t catch but by the way she shifts in her chair, it can’t have been nice. A guy with red hair pops by their classroom at lunchtime and directly calls ‘her’ a ‘him’. He looks _much_ happier like that, so Maehara assumes he must’ve just made a mistake.

When they’re asked to choose a partner for a Japanese assignment, Maehara takes the leap of faith. “…Shiota, right? Would you like to work together?”

Shiota looks nervous as he replies. “S-Sure, Maehara.”

As they work on their project, Maehara deliberately refers to Shiota as a ‘he’. The way he lights up is not unlike when he had first met Hazama, all those years ago.

Then, Shiota is sent to E Class, which is a shame, but it can’t be helped. And then, Isogai is sent to E Class, which _must_ be a mistake and then _he_ is sent to E Class.

The principal keeps centipedes in his office. They squirm and scuttle around their tank, away from their owner’s prying eyes. The principal feeds them bloodmeal as he tells Maehara he has been dropped to E Class. The atmosphere is so oppressive that when he steps outside the office, he finds himself gasping for air. The look the reception gives him, makes him think this isn’t the first time she’s seen this happen.

Maehara figures he must be cursed, as he makes the long trek up the mountain, away from the sleek, modern main campus buildings. He’s transferred in the middle of the academic year so he knows that his introduction will throw spanners in the works.

At least he knows Shiota and Isogai.

The homeroom teacher of E Class is a smart-looking young woman with choppy, short brown hair. She hands him a stick of chalk and asks him to write his name on the chalkboard. His penmanship, regardless of how much tutoring he’s received, has always been akin to chicken scratch. After finishing the last character, he pauses before attempting to print his name in English under it. The letters are shaky but it’s a passable effort.

When he looks out across the room, he realises that he knows half the class because he’s asked out every girl here. He internally grimaces. That’s awkward.

He takes his seat, in front of Shiota so that’s not too bad and ponders on how he’s going to break the news of his recent banishment to his father.

His father takes it better than expected but he pulls the whole ‘not angry, just disappointed’ spiel and the hole in his stomach only sinks deeper. He wants to say to him that he’ll work hard to improve his grades, but he knows that once to get sent to E Class, you never leave.

It’s not all bad, he assumes. Kunugigoaka is so prestigious that even graduating from it should be enough to get him by, especially if his father sets some money aside for a ‘generous donation’. Besides, there’s a ‘found family’ sort of vibe in E Class. Shiota introduces himself to Sugino (a baseball whiz) and Kanzaki (one of the girls who turned him down and a gaming legend). That in turns, means he gets introduced to Kataoka, to Okano, to Kurahashi, to Takebayashi, to Muramatsu, to- 

He jumps out of his chair, unable to control his excitement. “ _Hazama?_ ”

Maehara would be lying if he said that Hazama hasn’t changed a bit. She’s as thin as a rail and has shot up in height. Heavy makeup lines her undereye and she wears a lazy smile, but she has the same gleam in her eyes as when she was looking for bugs in the park, all those years ago.

She laughs under her breath. “Even all my tarot readings couldn’t predict this,” She smiles. “Woodlouse.”

E Class flip out when they realise that curse-placing Hazama and womanising bastard Maehara not only _know_ each other but used to be friends. They freak out even more when Karma comes back after his expulsion and Hazama reveals that _they_ also use to be friends.

Small world, Maehara thinks.

Korosensei. What.

An alien wants to teach End Class?

Maehara recalls the relaxation techniques his therapist taught him, braces his hands on his knees. He’s right at the front of the class as well, right in the octopus’ line of sight and-

“Maehara, right?”

He feels sweat trickle down the back of his neck and for once, he wishes he wore his hair shorter. His leg is jumping up and down like a child drinking soda for the first time. “…Yes, sensei?”

It (he? It sounds like a he, so it could be a he? Right? The scary looking government official referred to him as a he, is that right?) raises a tentacle. Maehara realises that it’s wanting a handshake. He takes it and squishes the soft, _warm_ flesh. It’s off putting but at least Maehara knows now he’s not dreaming.

That day, Isogai and Maehara walk home from school, still in awe at their new teacher. While Maehara rambles on at just how strange this year is gonna be, Isogai is quiet, deep in thought. Maehara assumes he’s just as confused as he is and doesn’t mention it.

“Do you like her?” Isogai asks one day and Maehara frowns. He isn’t really chatting up any girl, currently. They’re sitting out at lunch time, letting the sun beam down on them. Their next class is gym, so they haven’t eaten much, in fear of being sluggish in assassin training.

“Who?”

Isogai’s hugging his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “Hazama. She’s one of the only girls who you’ve never hit on, the other being Kataoka. What gives?”

Maehara tilts his head curiously. “Hazama’s like a sister to me. I’ve never thought of her that way, I guess,” He shrugs. “As for Kataoka, someone else I know likes her. I’m just following Bro Code.”

Isogai pouts. “I don’t like Kataoka.”

“Never said it was you,” Maehara waggles a finger in Isogai’s direction. “You might be my best friend, but my popularity is my one defining character trait.”

“Ah, so it’s _not_ the numerous girls who you’ve cheated on?”

Maehara smiles. “You’re such a dick.” And then the bell goes.

Karasuma introduces a new PE teacher for gym class, a rather jovial fat man. He seems nice enough and Maehara thinks he could be a good fit into the class dynamic. That is, until he slaps Kanzaki, who goes flying. There’s a load objection to that and Maehara, on instinct gets to his feet. He might be a womanizing bastard, but he still respects women.

He opens his mouth to shout at Takaoka when he’s suddenly lifted off his feet. _He’s a lot stronger than he looks,_ is one of the last thoughts that goes through his head before a knee slams into his abdomen. Maehara’s never felt such pain before, not since his mother.

He falls to the ground and curls in on himself, screwing his eyes shut and lets himself envelop into the darkness.

When he opens his eyes again, Shiota, who’s apparently some kind of badass, has taken down Takaoka, has him cowering for his life. His stomach still hurts but he weakly slugs an arm around Shiota and thanks him. Shiota doesn’t seemed convinced by his watery smile.

Isogai, Shiota, Karasuma and Korosensei all suggest he go to the hospital, but he’s got football practice. Asano, who’s practically the captain as this point, has already made a show of enforcing strict rules, having kicked off 3 senior members of the team. Isogai looks too mentally exhausted to refute his point but he helps Maehara to practice, giving him a worried look.

Maehara goes into the changing room to get changed but then Asano points out the huge bruise on his stomach- _my god, that’s not going to heal well-_ and tells him he should sit this one out. Maehara argues against it but Asano places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a _look_ which is so confusing that Maehara agrees to go to the nurse’s office.

The nurse suspects he has internal bleeding and suggests he goes to the hospital. He says he’ll think about it; he hasn’t the time to take off school to go to the hospital. When the nurses dismissing him to go home, practice is over, but Asano is waiting for him. Well, he’s pretending like he isn’t but when he notices Maehara, his head snaps up.

Maehara raises an eyebrow. Asano opens his mouth to speak and then promptly closes it, striding off. Maehara’s still a bit loopy on the painkillers he was given so by the time he’s home, he’s too loopy to remember what even happened that day.

The year continues as normal, with Asano continuing to challenge E Class to competitions that are wildly stacked against them and yet, they still win. The most offending example of this is the pole toppling event, which arose as a result of Asano trying to expel Isogai for working a part time job.

Asano’s called in the big guns; huge, burly foreign exchange students that look like they could crush Maehara like a watermelon. Despite _everything,_ the running around like wild animals, Takebayashi’s and Terasaka’s lie, the power struggle as Asano kickboxes his classmates in the face, Isogai and Itona’s impossible stunt- they win.

At football practice, later that night, Asano is visibly spooked and flinches when the principal comes down to watch they play. Maehara makes eye contact with the younger Asano, who almost immediately looks away.

In the locker room, Maehara feels like he should say something to him. But Asano isn’t his friend, and it isn’t his business, so he focuses his attention on getting home in one piece, stomach still tender.

They win their bet against A Class (Asano takes out by ‘accidentally’ kicking him in the shin in practice) and Maehara drinks up the sun and the holiday and the beach and the sea and then _Takaoka_ is there and he’s powerless to do anything.

Shiota saves the day, with a chilling look in his eyes. Maehara’s just glad he’s on Shiota’s good side.

On the plane back from the resort, he must be visibly jumpy because Isogai rests a hand on his shoulder and gives a small smile- _relax._

It’s after second semester finals, when Isogai asks him his plan for high school. They’re sitting on the E Class roof, late at night after jumping the fence. Maehara’s baked a cake, to celebrate Isogai getting 4th in the exams. Isogai keeps on saying he shouldn’t have and Maehara keeps on insisting that _yes, he should have._

“I don’t know,” Maehara answers, truthfully and then he thinks about it for longer. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

Isogai’s eyes hold a certain fondness as he laughs, resting his head on Maehara’s shoulder. Maehara takes a deep breath in and sighs. His worries seem to have washed away, like those backwash shores all those years ago.

They fall asleep like that and suddenly, all of his worries seem to melt away into the night.

That night, Maehara gets a good night sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> (please don't search up the latin in the fic or fic name if ur not an adult PLSSS)
> 
> i luv maehara so much that is one good boy....and hazama.... new fave time
> 
> maehara: did u get me bees again  
> hazama, from the other side of the room: just open it
> 
> also reference to my other fic 'somersault' hehehehe
> 
> if u enjoyed lmk!!!!


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